Biting Fairy Apothecary
by CascadeBeige
Summary: A Labyrinth Fanfic. An opportune visit to an Alchemy Shop overwhelms visiting Sarah's senses. Shades of the past reemerge,and encounters form a path of magic and alchemy. Atmospheric Fantasy. Contemporary AU years after the Maze. S/J Slow burn, feisty Sarah, an eerie Goblin King, and a dash of Labyrinthacy. The companion to the standalone, Peach Fizz.
1. Chapter 1 - Wooden Floors

a/n: *Thanks to the Reviewer who corrected my $ calculation error*

aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. I don't own rights to anything from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, though their aptly titled products are the closest I'll get to sensory magic.

~This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.

OCs aplenty. I get nutty with acronyms and punctuation. OLS is optional listening selection.

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*murdered car means blacked out…rims, tires, everything painted black or tinted but the license plate or lights.

*ride station is a park-and-ride for city bus systems.

*shotgun is front passenger beside the driver.

*trap [car, shack, house] is a colloquial insult meaning it looks dingy.

OLS: Enigma 'The Screen Behind the Mirror'; Clannad 'Ri Na Cruinne'.

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Along the bustling city crossroads a grungy metro bus maneuvered the choked avenues as quick as it stopped.

A gust of diesel from the following compact truck slapped Sarah's face. She nearly gagged in coughs, wiping her eyes with the flannel sleeves of her checkered button-down. Her sneakers creaked under her foot arch. Sarah opened eyes to survey the avenue. Now just past shoulder hair sat in a plastic alligator clip, at neck level.

Cut on a whim after all those years. Yes, in college… she still had her central back level sable hair despite upkeep trim. After graduation she cut it shorter. The craziest she went with dye was when she dutifully, 'naturally', treated hair in the last two years of college. The decision finalized after she permanently goofed her hair with continued henna brown tones.

Yup, a trademark city perfume… metal coated urine stench held by the gusts of port winds. She nodded to no one. Her tighter than usual black jeans strained against her hips.

It was no shock her weight gain in the past quarter showed her stress. Combined with a recent job quit… the money fueled post school move-in with her dad, and a friendship falling out, her newfound life became a virtual span.

She gazed behind, around. She knew the city area but only from a vague memory. Walking around the nearest street corner Sarah looked up at the Romanesque and minimalist skyscrapers.

Following a wide eye and jumpier walking pace, she realized this area felt familiar. She referenced the map PDF saved on her smartphone. This had to be near the nastier part of metropolis. Where drug paraphernalia, cat-calls, street waste, and petty car break-ins were commonplace.

Sarah heard a yappy canine a block behind her. Cars swerving, voices, brakes, revving engines. This area crossed paths with a line of international, kitschy, and long-standing shops that in a few blocks eventually fed into the Arts and Theatre strip. But the route to it remained a mystery.

She'd been there with her high school acquaintance years back. After the…incident with Toby. Before she lost contact with her friends Hoggle and the gang.

The pace Sarah kept did not alleviate the feeling that anything could happen—she could very well find herself needing to pee where no public restrooms existed.

\Sarah and Janine tromped the streets with a tiny haul of snacks from an Asian Market. Only to find themselves lost.

Janine endangered them both, when she wandered off talking on her phone, electric purple tipped hair bouncing behind her. Sarah scooted to try and catch up while berating her enigmatic classmate internally. Sarah noticed, slowing, that Janine had run to a group of four older boys in a gaggle near a car at a parallel parking meter. Janine talked with one of them. Sarah did not feel right.

Not just her social shyness. But it was early evening. She was asked to be home around seven, only an hour away, or asap to a ride station where her dad could pick her during his drive back from work. The paper sack wouldn't hold up forever, considering Janine's metric ton of high calorie snacks in the bag.

The bun haired brunette readjusted the crinkling food items and stood waiting for something to happen. Should she make an excuse and bail on Janine? it sounded like a good plan, considering she was foot sore. Sarah cautiously stood with her paper sack in hand a few meters' distance.

Janine nodded as the bulky shotgun teen leaned down to hug her in a stiff way, as teens do. Street noise drowned everything out. They both appeared amicable. All others got into the car. The buzz-cut boy and Janine separated, looked Sarah's direction as Janine waved her over with her clunky cellphone. Sarah's feet led her to meet them. Loud top forty music blasted in the running auto. /

She slowed, and tapped the button and waited for the crosswalk indicator. Heaps of gassy traffic crossed a nose distance from where she remained on the sidewalk divet. After a few moments the light turned and she sped across the avenue avoiding other pedestrians. At the other side she realized she stood in front of the plastic and wood barred remains of a store marked "For Lease". That must have been the former Asian Market.

Sarah scooted by the brick wall, reevaluated her phone with a pull zoom. She was a winding half mile from the Theatre, where the off Broadway company sold tickets. The revived musical was weeks away and Sarah felt she might be late to get decent tickets. But her last money jab would be the acclaimed show if it killed her. Phone went back in handbag.

Well, here we go feet. The rubber soled shoes creaked in agreement as her pace sped again. She smelled burnt coffee when an ambling elderly man sipped out of an open paper cup, walking in the opposite direction.

\Sarah stood, pinned by her awkward esteem as the bag weighed impossibly heavier on her arm.

She surveyed the car. A fancy murdered car. The boy's frame suggested involvement in high school sports and a general inkling toward trendy clothes, with acne and growth spurt remnants. His large ear studs seemed uncomfortable on his thin lobes.

"Mick, this is Sarah. She does drama…er, the ya know, the pamphlets and things. I'm busy with Rally Club, and French Club," Janine tittered and ogled the boy.

The boy made eye contact with Sarah who nodded. She felt a chill in her knees and looked to Janine in rescue.

"Mick asked if we wanna hitch a ride. His friend Jonah drives, can get us both home in no time! How 'bout that?"

Sarah felt warning bells go off. The car honked twice.

Through a moment of adrenaline Sarah ended the conversation with a rushed 'no thanks' and forced smile. She insisted refusal. In a closed lie she blurted out that her dad wanted her to take the bus that 'he was paranoid and would freak if she was dropped off'. Janine looked baffled, then disappointed. So she shrugged and joined the boys. She waved a spirited goodbye. The car sped off with a loud 808 rhythm.

Sarah scooted around the corner pretending to glance at her clunky phone, walking to the crossroads bus stop.

Notably Janine stopped interacting with Sarah only a few days after that. Sarah suspected it had to do with Janine's need to belong with others. Well, others who were not Sarah. They hadn't spoken since. That was, what, junior year of high school?\

The bustle of the city recalibrated Sarah.

A song reverberated. From a shop in an alley, Wall of Voodoo's "Mexican Radio" played tinny among the city sounds. Sarah couldn't help but smirk at the corny aged song she heard often on the radio with her dad.

The Theatre was close, she figured. She saw the large vintage bulb sign. She trotted a distance until the announcement board was readable above. The title of the play, with an added show. Huh. She felt her purse in anticipation, and joined the small line of people at the box office. She pulled out her reading glasses.

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Walking ahead to the unknown Sarah realized it was nearing noon. Her tummy grumbled. She couldn't spend on city eats at this rate. The tickets led to a great balcony seat but a drain on finances. She didn't regret but knew money came with matters of time. She got here mere hours ago, mid-morning to get out of the house, after her dad still went to work at a godforsaken earlier time due to an ongoing case with clients.

The overcast weather threatened searing heat. Her flannel kept her warm but could become enemy in humidity.

An overhang to her right. A flash of something shiny.

Sarah scooted closer, her hair leaning into her face from its clip. The laminated sign behind the glass had text and a hand pointing finger down. It read in filigree: "Biting Fairy Apothecary—hand crafted quality alchemic creations—open five days a week 10am-6pm & online—Address info, lower staircase suite."

The glint came from a sticker of a holographic fairy and a potion bottle icon which sat under text.

Her legs chilled as she felt a presence behind her, and heard a sudden flock of birds make a mass exodus away. Must have been those darn pigeons. Sarah glanced back quick, only to find a dusting of glitter on the tarnished sidewalk. She inhaled the city air and turned back to read.

Glitter? …oh. Well, it was the Arts district. Alright. Where's that address?

She looked closer behind her reading glasses. Some more fine print she hadn't seen beneath the potion icon.

"HELP WANTED—inquire in store." Her eyes strained and read it in denial. That was not there before.

Okay Sarah, don't freak. You're just low on caffeine and hungry. This sign was possibly months old, outdated.

But it looked legitimate aside from the purposeful tint of the antique-looking paper. Sarah wagered it was in this building. She stepped back to look up at the overcast sky, and Romanesque stonework. Now to find stairs.

She cautiously, in purposeful steps, moved ahead avoiding the pedestrians. Focused on windows, doors, anything entrance related. An antique shop sat to the left in a storefront with an arrow near the bottom of the glass pointing right.

To the right, old re-painted double doors with latch handles and newer bolt locks, and an ancient looking cement incline reaching the raised door. Long vertical windows with whiteout curtains. One window read the suite names and addresses. Sarah tentatively clicked latch down and pulled, the door heavily gave way.

It clunked closed behind her. To the right the antique shop. In front was another door with address plaques and a glass peek frame. She pushed down handle and continued. It was drafty and significantly dimmer as she gazed down the steep stairs. Death stairs, that lead to a dim light floor.

Sarah put away her reading glassed. She grabbed her over shoulder bag and latched fingers to the wood railing.

Sarah felt herself become anxious. It smelled old, wooden, and metal as an aged place would. But it was not welcoming. Clunk-clunk-thump as she rapidly descended. Her shoes clipped the creaky stairs. It was the only sound she heard until she landed on the wood floor under the dim lighting. A foyer.

Two storefronts next to each other, then a hallway down somewhere else. The first store, with papers, binding and books, appeared to be closed. Edison bulbs over the second storefront archway. She took out phone, silenced it in case of shopping.

Sarah approached the lit up store. A fold over sign. "Biting Fairy Apothecary". What looked like garden décor lining the entrance.

This is it.

A chill. The air conditioning, or lack of, resonated. She walked to the doorway. Lace adorned the windows and obscured the goods. The door was ajar.

She cleared her throat. A waft of scents hit her nose. Wax, greenery, perfumes, metal, other scents. A distant orchestral song played.

"Hello," she tried. Sarah felt like a film character nearing a plot scare. If someone jumps at her, she'll pee herself…

"Hello, dear. Come right in."

Sarah looked ahead in mild surprise. A middle aged woman with a partial buzz cut and what looked like eighteenth century peasant revival clothes moved from behind the desk to maneuver to the unnerved brunette. She seemed personable at least to Sarah.

"Now what're you looking for today? I've got a half off deal on teas, twenty percent off seasonal scent roller perfumes. Just this week so you're in luck."

Sarah looked into her glinting crow's feet framed amber eyes. Freckles, a permanent bronze from millennia in the sun or artificial tans.

Green eyes forced a smirk, chin up. "I saw the 'Help Wanted' label, I was wondering if that was still here." The awkward verbal delivery set her mind into churning.

The woman squinted in thought, nodded. "Well, yes it is. I haven't…really considered hiring more people until recently. You know micro-business and all that. But yes, I need a helper since I am busier in the past month…thanks to the online interest, and buyers."

"I'm sorry I hadn't brought a resume…" Sarah began. The lady brightened and shook head.

"Oh no, don't worry." The lady seemed to jolt to a stop, look over Sarah, and then return with tentative eyes. "Oh. My name is Sera Merlin, owner founder."

Sarah nearly paled. "My name is Sarah, Williams…wow," she couldn't help a smile and reached her hand in shake.

Sera seemed off out but warmed to a shake. "Well its short for Seraphim, though Sera feels easier. Like the song 'que sera-sera'".

The sable haired woman nodded. "Glad to meet you, and see the shop."

"T—there's no customers as of yet since you're my only visitor today. Want to come in the back for an interview?"

Sarah stood stunned for a flash. Then smiled, "Yes, thanks," she followed through a black gauzy curtain, door on right, one on left, one center. One presumably a bathroom, one Sera opened lead to a large storage area, then a door to an office.

Boy, this place gave her the heebies…why was it with adjacent doors? Why was she thinking about this?

Sera sat at a small creaky rolling chair and gestured to a fold out chair. Sarah sat.

"Do you have other work experiences?"

Sarah nodded, looked aside to remember. "Yes, since I was eighteen I worked part time in early childhood daycare during summers. When I was twenty I worked in retail. Clothes associate and housewares. On and off until I worked at a home wares store. Went back to school, graduated Bachelor's, and worked a bit in more retail."

Sera seemed unimpressed. "Are you going back to school?"

"No, I thought of it but money and resources got in the way."

Sera nodded. "Are you thinking full time, part, flexible?"

Sarah sat and thought. "Well, anything I can get."

"You're already hired. I was secretly hoping you weren't some girl who'd never worked a day in her life."

Sarah felt shortly offended. Where did that come from? "Wh…why's that?"

"I had three other candidates for work in the last week. One seemed decent enough as part time. But seems..uh…enthusiastic to work here as of late. One was a college sorority girl, I hated the way she carried herself."

Sarah sat and fiddled with her peeling nail polish, and listened to the rather sudden rant. Is Sera feeling alright? Maybe city stress or low sales was a real issue.

Sera took in deliberate breaths. "Then I got a young girl. Seemed like she was in high school. Might've lied about her age for work. I cheated though."

"Huh?" Sarah cocked her head up again.

"I asked her if she had any experience with alchemy before. She said, get this: 'Yes my father is a mortician. For the Royal Court'. I just sat there and heard her. I had no idea whether to laugh or up and leave work for the day."

Sarah made an incredulous face. Sera sensed it and made a lip scrunch in agreement.

"Then I told her and the college girl I'd get back to them in a week with an answer. Frankly I'm afraid to call the young girl 'cause she might be Wednesday Addams. Now the guy Nate might be your coworker. Just don't get him started on his, uh, D and D."

Sarah smiled. She attempted and failed D & D campaigns during college dorm life, it wasn't for her—though the players were the motivating part of it. Not really the game.

Until that time her dorm member referenced a 'Goblin Army'. Sarah remembered her near traumatic state of tuning it out dutifully any time he talked or took actions. She never played after that night. What was she? Was she victimized by a memory of peril during her Run? PTSD is not a funny acronym, nor is it just a reaction to something.

Sarah realized she gaped into the plastered walls.

Sera made an effort to look into Sarah's face. "Are you okay? Did I offend you?"

"Oh, I, uh no. I just…dated a D & D addict. Don't feel bad for me," she lied in a rapid chuckle. "I just remembered how I broke it off in college. I won't be discussing D & D, ya know."

Sera relaxed a bit and nodded. Took pen and pad and wrote something, tore it and gave it to the sable haired woman. "Here, my email. Take this home and when you can, just write the hours you're available. Including all off days and vay-cay plans. There's the work phone. And, my personal cell. Ask me if you have any questions."

Sarah took it and folded it into a safe place of the bag. Then wrote her info. "Uh, do you need my phone and email?"

The older woman reacted with a frantic nod and took it, "yes thanks for that, Sarah."

Sarah felt her stomach strain. Either hunger or a feeling of uncertainty. "Thank you so much for this. Really,"

Sera rolled her eyes in light humor. "Make me proud as a Biting Fairy Associate."

"I will," Sarah smirked, her feet were nearly numb.

Sera looked with inquiry at Sarah's fidgeting. "Oh I'm keeping you here, you need to be somewhere?"

Sarah looked at the chair then up. "I need to be back soon to make lunch, yeah,"

The woman adjusted her billowy sleeves. Her old style sparrow clavicle tattoo on her bust peeked over the bust-vest. "I get it. Could you start Friday, maybe?"

It was Tuesday. Sarah had no plans except looking for jobs at her stressed slug pace. "Yes, when?"

"Be here at nine am this Friday, I'll help you train and get your paycheck info in order. It might be a few hours into noon or later, just as a starter."

Sarah was numbed by relief. "Yes, I will. Thanks Sera, I'll see you Friday." She rose and readjusted.

As she also stood Sera pulled a rare toothy smile. "Absolutely, bye and keep that contact info safe. Send me a practice email to make sure I got'cha info right."

"I will, I will," Sarah chirped as she exited slowly, and nearly out the shop. She heard rustling behind.

The wooden floor creaked. "Sarah. Uh, do you want a sampler of perfume, or tea, to go?"

The green eyed woman turned to face Sera with a creak. The Edison bulbs flickered. A stone gargoyle ogled her atop an ancient desk with arms under chin.

"Oh that's great, thank you."

Sera lightened and moved to grab a small paper emblem stamped gift bag from behind the desk. She walked and handed it to Sarah. "Now have a great day. Bye bye, precious." Wink.

As she readjusted grip her heart strained in her flannel. She hid an internal wince at the name. Sarah saw another glint in the corner of her eye. More glitter on the floor. She smelled a strange perfume of candlewax, some spice, and woods. The music tinkled from behind the desk.

She swerved a turn and waved goodbye with a forced smile and scooted out into the foyer. Her heart thumped. It seemed shadowed more so than before…with a breeze.

A floorboard creaked down the other hall. She was getting anxious. Her rubber soles croaked as she hastily shuffled down the hall to find a bathroom. Thank god, it was propped open despite the code pinpad.

Sarah's pants felt tight again. Hopefully Sera wouldn't freak if she found Sarah in the private bathroom. Sarah rushed to hang the bag and her purse, click the light on, and shut the door as quietly as possible with a lock.

Once she peed she washed her hands with vigor. Her palms felt sweaty despite the wash. Looked in the mirror to find her dark circles under eyes stand out. She knew she had under eye discoloration as a normal state, but the fluorescent light accentuated it. Her mouth was cottony.

She gathered her things without using the blow hand dryer. She turned light off, cautiously peeked, coast was clear. Propped door open again. She shuffled back into the foyer, gazed at the shop to make sure no one was there. Just light music. She ran up the stairs to the doors, rushed through them.

Winded Sarah rushed out and down the ramp. Out on the street the light of the city blinded her. Sun returned and was warmer. Her flannel strained along with her jeans. She returned under the window awning in shade.

She looked to her phone, two missed calls. One mystery number that she swiped away. One from her dad's phone. Thirty minutes ago. What'd he want? She couldn't figure why he'd call midday. She texted him, then looked at the PDF to find the nearest bus stop.

Once there, the bus came only a minute after she got in the bus line crowd on the busy intersection.

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Sera scrunched eyebrow at the lanky bespectacled man. How rude to her. Asking for the ingredients, quizzing her to likely give over the formula, for her perfume?

His deep brown eyes glinted. "I take it that it's a trade secret. I apologize," he moved to grab at a glass bottle of Biting Fairy's most pricey cologne. "In that case I'll take one of these, a tin of your Seeker tea, and your bird on a stone here." He placed the clunky wooden table statue onto the counter with the bottle.

Sera's interest piqued just as her annoyance. She reached to grab and fill a tin of the robust black tea leaves blend. Sealed it. Placed on counter.

This man, with the slimy attitude and the slicked back dark hair. He was like a classical movie villain. But it was a sale, and a damn good one. She clicked the register.

"That'll be…one hundred ninety-seven dollars and twenty three cents. Cash, or card?"

"Cash, here." He handed her two hundred bills. Crisp. She almost grumbled. Change back onto the receipt tray. He pocketed it and his receipt.

She made busy with two bags. "Would you like gift wrapping?"

"Ah, yes, for the raven." She wrapped it and sealed with bubble wrap and placed it into a box, into a bag with silver gift paper. She didn't miss his analytical survey of her store. Snob.

The cologne and tea went into another paper stamped bag. "Thank you very much, have a wonderful day." She beamed the best toothy smile she could.

He took both. Nodded with a smirk. Turned to walk out. "Oh, and…send a hello to a Miss Williams for me. I heard she works here. My colleague might stop by and meet you both, he's heard good things about Biting Fairy and its kitschy things."

Sera almost stopped breathing. "I…uh, yes I will, and thank you! Bye." He was gone and scooting up the stairs in wooden sole clacks.

That rude son of a gun. How did he know Sarah was hired? And who was the colleague? Another rich ego-thief, or a sleazy goods middleman?

Sera needed caffeine. Time to bother the metal electric kettle, and use her supply of personal spiced orange black tea. With a metric ton of sugar.

Wherever that floor glitter came from she needed to sweep it up before she slipped and died in this damn musty basement.

While she left for the back a scuttling creature cackled as it leapt onto a creaky painted goods table and knocked down the lace doily. It reached into its rags, and placed a pristine velvet scarf atop a bowl of heart shaped rocks for sale.

"Champy work here now. Champy better behave!" it tittered, and clattered in a big leap onto the ground. It disappeared under a shelf. A trail of glitter on the floor glistened, then disappeared.

A glass orb refracted light atop its velvet scarf in the bowl.


	2. Chapter 2 - Merlin Matters

a/n: aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.

*Thanks again to the Reviewer who corrected my dollardollar calculation goof. I apologize for typos, vocab. CC is welcome and encouraged. I make every effort to avoid my curse of long-term-project plot inconsistencies **(groans)**

*Chapter 2 is dedicated to those who've been jumped by a cat unawares. rip.

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Chapter 2: Merlin Matters

"She Moved Thru the Fair" Celtic Woman

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Sera. Seraphim… Merlin.

The name struck Sarah as she typed the greeting practice email. The last stage of editing came with the Subject line and the greeting after the date.

,,,,,,,,,.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"[Subject: Follow up to Biting Fairy Hire]

Date

Hello Sera,

This is my practice email for job contact and all other purposes. I am excited to work in Biting Fairy Apothecary

Have a nice day,

Sarah Williams"

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Sent. Her sable hair pulled through a ponytail. Now onto drinking her cold tea. Then dishes, and looking for another job online. Maybe. She stretched and stood to do a lumbar twist and shoulder pull. Exercise needed to happen soon. Today, check.

"Well, Merlin, you and Sera got something in common." Sarah swallowed and looked to the floor after the reality reminded her of her beloved pet. Family member. Even if Steed was his honorific title. She looked to her tea, the Darjeeling bitter from accidental over brewing. No sugar sweetened the taste. Her stiff legs stood aside from the small rolling chair, sending the seat to bump into the chintzy wooden laptop table. She paced out of her room into the adjacent hallway. The house was empty save for the reclusive tabby Junebug…always kept downstairs.

Toby adopted the cat in the last year from a shelter. Sarah knew it was due to his increasing need for recognition as a pre-teen.

/ Did it take Merlin's place? Why did her mind move to the day, years back, when she ran from the bridge in the park green? She remembered in waves—the cold nipping at her billow shirt, her worry that the jeans would soak. The mud she tracked onto her flats.

Now if Sarah ran in the rain her beloved scraggly dog Merlin would not be near. Years back Sarah's father called her in a torn voice. She knew it was time, as Merlin endured years of old-dog arthritis, pain, and loss of appetite. While Sarah was away doing her undergrad.

Ever the Steed. Her dad sounded broken over the phone those years later. The dog passed after a violent hacking fit. He threw up bile, and fell into a coma on the car-ride to the veterinarian. Almost like he knew being with her father was the last thing he wanted instead of a sterile office.

The car floor was apparently covered in paw dirt and mud that day, as Karen in a hush, had informed Sarah over a late night phone call.

Robert informed Sarah that Toby was going to grief counseling over the loss of a pet. /

Sarah scrunched her nose. Her dad at the time would not have paid for her to go to counseling for a dog.

/But maybe Dad would send her there for her head to be examined by a dismissive Doc of Teen Psych. The Docs that deal with the teens highschools never had the resources or money to address… chronic liars, juvies, and ones that habitually had unprotected drug-laden sex. Teens brought to the psych world by affluent family members or by medical mandate./

Her socked feet slipped a bit on the laminate floor. Karen kept it pristine upstairs. Even if it was less so downstairs thanks to the litter tracking kitty. Only when potential guests came did she hire a housekeeper service. Sarah held fast to the railing to walk down. She sensed a swipe of dust from the railing. More came as she moved her hand with steps. The dust track felt like finding a vodka stash in the freezer—a spiral waiting to happen.

She completed the turn down the last ones. Halted. Her eyes drifted to the golden clock. She checked it on occasion to see if the thirteen returned. But to no avail. This is people time, not delusion time.

/The mud, dirt, and grime disappeared the moment she materialized in the Goblin Lands. Or wherever that place outside the Labyrinth was. Of course she got filthy after the stressful perils with her rambunctious friends. She recalled that one of the first things she did after the Labyrinth ordeal was deep clean her room, then wash two loads of laundry and scrub her shoes, dry them./

Karen was initially stunned that her step daughter would clean with determination. But in days she understood that fifteen year old Sarah Williams had some sort of reckoning.

/Sarah considered the thoughts the French-updo'd matriarch must have had. One, that Sarah finally grew gratitude or some chrisitanity. Two, that Sarah had it with her birthmother and needed to rid herself of material reminders.

It was speculation. More based from her own teen knowledge of Karen's opinions. And her own understanding of how it might seem. Reminiscing as an adult about things she'd already mulled over? Was it decided?

But things aren't always…

stop that.

don't do this.

it's past time to reconsider./

Sarah walked into the dim foyer and down the hall. Into the kitchen. She wanted real food. And there was time to make a healthful dinner dish if wanted. Neither parent would be in the mood to cook. Just simmer and let it be.

On the table she found a half round loaf of rosemary olive bread. The serrated knife sat, egging her on. In no time he messily scraped a slice off and crammed the largest bite in mouth. Chewed. It was slightly bitter, savory, and stale. She'd choke without liquid. She rushed to the fridge and yanked the nearest jug out, twisted cap. Chewed, chewed. Don't swallow or it'll be self-Heimlich time. With a wash she realized in a cheek tingle that it was Robert's grapefruit juice. More bitter but not bad at all as a pairing. Inhale.

Sarah knew she needed to have that conversation with Karen. The one she dreaded for fear of the Psych center. What really happened. Or just fudge it, and say she had a dream that she saved Toby. For godsake it was ten years after the Run. And Sarah clammed up since. Scratch the dream. It'll add to the cover up. Could she discuss it?

She searched for cannellini beans, any beans. Ah, in Robert's 'health joke' cabinet. Complete with hemp seeds. Like he'd ever do it if Karen didn't pressure him. His high stress job and erratic food didn't help the case. In the pantry cabinet there were diced tomatoes. Tiny tube pasta. And spices up the butt, thank heck. Looks like its soup night.

Her hair wisped into her face. Her wrist hairband did the tight trick. Now was the time to clean the counters and make minestrone.

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Sarah bided time by reading two lifestyle magazines, complete with peppy instructions on how to craft with grandkids, and pinch off pounds using the elimination diet of the week. Her interest piqued when an article on family of the week mentioned an eleven year old's story of his brother.

/He wished his brother would go away. And the twin brother went missing.

The shorter twin slipped into a fever, two days into the incident. Awoke only after his brother turned up. /

Her green irises skimmed.

/Dramadrama…three days later the brother turns up. Literally on the doorstep.

Filthy, with nothing but a dazed look and a strange crest-shaped pin on his pajama top.

The mother argued it was likely "triggered by shock and guilt, thinking a tragedy was his fault."

Sarah ogled the gritty magazine image on the grinning family. Their mother wearing flattering mauve hijab that emphasized her sleek eyebrows. The taller twin bore the crest on his lapel. A close-up image below showed a dull brass color. The word "WARD".

The mother said in the article—she tried to turn the crest into the police, or throw it in the trash, but the twin screamed mad when she took it away. Screamed that 'Crawlies told him to keep it no matter what'. They've kept it ever since. The mother's last words of the article: "every moment with children is 'precious', because they might feel forgotten"./

Sarah flipped away from the article and moved to the house design section.

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After some twenty minutes of simmering, the timer rang. Add the measly handful of some not-dead-yet chopped spinach. She opened the billowing pot, and tossed it in. With spices. Stirred.

She heard the cat rumble from a room away. Sarah didn't pay mind . A distinct warning growl. She tapped the spoon, rested it, and closed the lid of the searing pot. A hiss.

Something was not good. In haste she turned the heat off. A loud vocalization chilled her. Something was really wrong. Without thought she yanked a colander from the lineup of decorative copperwares. She scooted in socks down the hall. It was dimmer now. How long was she in the kitchen?

Don't breathe too loud. Don't freak June out. June might just be stuck somewhere, her claws hooked to something. And the colander won't help except as swiping kitty armor.

Poking head in the tile laundry room, Sarah tiptoed to avoid stepping on the tabby. No cat yet.

A growl. Sarah instinctively turned on heel to look behind her.

Nothing. Back to the dim room.

Sarah screeched as Junebug flew off the dryer, ran at her foot. Her socked foot was frozen in place as Junebug play-gnawed and clawed enough to scratch her skin. Junebug jumped and clawed at her pants, dropped down, and leapt behind Sarah, galloping away. She turned to see, then slipped on the tile, and dropped the colander. Her hip, butt, and elbow jammed onto floor. Tears flowed and she whimpered.

Fuck the cat. She wiped eyes with arm. It only blurred everything. Sarah rolled over onto her stomach, clutched her hip, and slowly crawled on fours out of the room. She looked June's way and widened eyes.

Turning a corner, the rear deck screen door was open. Sarah felt her neckhair bristle. A chill in the air. Oh god. Junebug must have escaped.

Or… Someone was in the house.

uuuuuuuuuuu

"Ma'am, could I ask a question?"

"...What do you want?" Karen held the logo clad cup fast as she jolted into herself. The lid contained the chaos. Through its paper sleeve it radiated warmth into her palms. They'll sweat in no time. Just after she applied rapid repair lotion.

"Apologies, ma'am. I am Bobbi, I'm here to do a quick survey on working mothers. Care to participate?"

Karen wasn't prepared for this pierced woman, stranger, to prevent her from getting to her PTA meeting on time. Who would have the audacity to show up unannounced outside her go-to franchise? And frighten her like Halloween ?

"No thanks. I am nearly late to my meeting," she pushed forward in her twill slacks. Balmy evening air swished her cheekbones.

'"Alright. Have a nice day, then-" The gauge eared woman chirped from behind her.

Damn people asking for people's info like it's a college campus. Those days were in her faraway past! And to think she herself was a shifty minded girl in her formative college years. She strode to her car and strapped herself in at record speed. She would be ten minutes late if she took the usual route due to local construction.

Karen the 'never held onto one boyfriend' girl. She was partial to binge drinking, parties, and even odd piercings too at that age. She'll never forget the short lived cartilage piercing that caught on hair, tore through skin, and stained a favorite tank top from the boutique.

Her fingers flexed as she remembered the twinge of pain when it caught on her then long blonde hair. And the trip to the student health facility was a story in itself. And it cost her a date with the scraggly sandals guy from Environmental Studies, back when it was a budding degree field. Karen stood him up by complete accident and never talked to him again.

When her mind refocused, she realized that the school was just a half mile turn away. Damn this mile-long speedway, the rush hour traffic looked exhausting. She was four minutes from the meeting start. She couldn't be late—Marina from the PTA would nosily whisper 'traffic?', or 'what coffee is that?' despite the round table meeting. And she'd get stares. And Marina would shift continuously in her seat in that poorly fit spandex skirt…

A car nearly rammed into Karen's right side as she turned into the left exit from the speedway. Sped in front of her and tore rubber at an impossible speed. Karen shrieked then swerved, bumping over the lump lane barriers and barely running into standstill turn lane traffic. Her heart thudded as she tore to the other side, Her acrylic nail broke and yanked itself off her finger with steering wheel impact. Horns blared at her. That dirtbag. She drove ahead into a calm lane, straightened the car.

But no sirens. Shook, she drove to the school parking lot, finger throbbing, and found the nearest spot to the door.

uuuuuuuuuuu

A creak sounded behind her. With another head switch her hair whipped out of the ponytail band and temporarily blinded her. Nothing behind, peripheral. Sarah brushed hair aside in the few seconds. Back to the screen door. She creeped with colander to the open latch. June better not play pounce on her this time while she's still shaky. Well, if June even stayed in the house.

At this time Sarah welcomed a crowbar murderer to jump at her. Seems more justifiable than a cat pounce.

But none came.

The whiskey brown curtains budged with wind movement. She peeked outside onto the quiet porch without touching the screen. No animal in sight. Nothing in sight. Just distant children's voices, cars.

"Jun…" She shut up when she remembered to keep quiet if someone was here.

But there was no use. Someone would've found her and attacked by now. During cooking or something, Or upstairs. Or maybe it was petty theft so slick there was no noise. Nothing was remotely out of order from her limited scope.

She'd have to face the music by telling Toby and Karen and Dad that she'd accidentally let the cat out. She doubted they'd believe her if she said the screen was ajar. But enough of that. Her trembling free hand shut and locked the screen door. Replaced the wood push bar. She'd wait to die by shame-blame-game.

"I fuckin welcome all the Labyrinth…bullshit…over this cat right now. Where's Merlin when I need him…"

Tears threatened her eyes again. She half-slid herself hunched on socks into the kitchen. It was silent as ever. She tromped in and placed the colander on the hang shelf. The minestrone aroma welcomed her.

"Huh! I swear to god. Junebug is a goblin in disguise. Fight me. Bring the damn armies out while you're at it." She yanked a bowl and spoon out, slammed cabinetry.

/Damn, it was a table spoon, not a larger soup spoon. It'll do. /

"I wish I had a damn break from my feelings."

A ladle was forced out of the lower drawer. She tromped over and clattered open the lid with a billow of steam. Three heaping scoops later, Sarah felt it was enough to place her into a food high.

Her eyes tore at the loaf of bread, during her intensive blowing on soup portions between bites. It splashed her chin a few times.

 _RRRawwwrrmmrwaoow…_

/Are you kidding? The cat…Where the hell…?/

Sarah dropped her spoon in soup and turned scowling.

She gasped.

Atop the cat was a Goblin. In metallic armor.

She wiped invisible residue from her face. Stunned.

/It's a hallucination. Oh godnonono…/

"Wha-" Sarah was cut off by the shrill pipsqueak of a voice. "Drompo give Champy respects."

The Goblin moved its hand in an arc, waving her to stay silent. Its demeanor was alarmingly composed. Junebug stretched. Goblin uncharacteristically balanced as if perched on a steed. Her mind went to Sir Didymus and Ambrosius.

But this twerp wasn't her trusted comrades.

"Champy listen to Drompo." It gestured to itself. "Champy don't offense Labyrinth like that, Brings bad things."

"Insult? No I—I…" her green irises turned sepia in frustration. She was speechless.

"Drompo have message. Accept, or no?"

/This took a turn. What's it want?/

Sarah breathed in. And closed eyes. Opened, concluded she was having a delusion brought on by psychosis. Better go with it.

"I accept," she moved to sit sideways in chair with the wood back as some bolster for her nerves. The Goblin caught on, and nudged Junebug. Who pawed forward and sat. Drompo hopped off, and made springy metal strides to stand in front of Sarah.

"Here Message: Champy called on Kingdom. Drompo speak for Kingdom. Do Champy have Time of Need?"

Sarah scooted and frowned in confusion. "Champy? Called on Kingdom?"

Nodding, "You title Champy in Kingdom, Labyrinth, and Goblins Realm." Junebug lied down on the floor.

Sarah blinked with incredulity. A Goblin Diplomat.

"Drompo cannot say full Champy title, for title given only by Royal Highness. Kingy."

"Oh. Oh t-thanks for telling me. I am Champy?"

Drompo nodded with clanks. "Champy also call Goblin Armies. Champy have Foe to defeat?"

"Urghhh-No. No Foe." She botched. /Digging a grave with each moment.../

It blinked, shuffled. "Then Champy wish for Break from Feelings. Champy need Kingdom Healer?"

Her hair flitted in her face, she moved it away. Swallowed. She was getting flushed. "You mean, I have to go back?"

"That Champy choice. Say right Words. Kingdom Healer walk between Realms if need."

Sarah was dumbfounded; she pushed into a stand on bent knees for balance. A cryptic answer for an impossible situation.

"Who, or what, is the Kingdom Walker?"

"Healer make medicine, help Goblins, help make potions for Court. Kingy of Goblins employ Healer in Court.

The mere mention of the second being made her bitter. But…Drompo…seemed accessible enough to talk to.

Said Goblin tapped his foot. "Champy not have Time of Need?"

Sarah recalled she was zoning out. "Sorry, nono. I mean. Yes, I have a time of need. But no, I do not need the Healer. Thank you."

"Drompo don't understand." The poor thing scratched its helmet in confusion. Junebug yawned.

"I am sorry, er, Drompo. But I made a mistake, I-"

"Champy no make mistake. Said words, said want. Champy mean it, if Kingdom feel Champy call."

Damn that filibuster. Sarah knew something like that grain of truth would trap her. Just not in this way. Does she have this kind of power? Power in a kingdom and place she left years ago?

"Drompo…can I ask a question? And you give me an honest answer?"

It nodded again with a clunk. "Drompo defy Code of Kingdom if lie. Give question."

"Does the-Goblin King—know I called?"

"Yes. Drompo sent in place of Kingy since no children wished away. Drompo come here as Goblin Messenger."

Sarah's throat closed. She swallowed cotton.

/God, you're making this a struggle. /

Cleared her throat. "I'm sorry Drompo. I am flattered you came all this way."

"Drompo job as Messenger is to travel."

"Right now. I wish I never called the Kingdom." Sarah blurted to herself. Out loud.

The atmosphere changed. Heavier, a storm front. A temperature and pressure flux.

Drompo, if even possible to the species, paled. In a low warning uttered, "No,no, Champy. Cannot take back wish. Kingy do not like that.

Junebug alerted, and Drompo looked around as of expecting rain. It hurdled itself onto the feline. With a clanging salute, it raised its voice over the distant rumbling. "Drompo must leave. Regards to Champy." A light tap of armored foot and Junebug was off. She skittered down the hall charging with the Goblin until there was no more metal or paw noises.

The electricity went out. Sarah felt the same dread she had when she first wished Toby away. It was the nightmare all over again. Her mind went into anxiety lockdown. She needed her friends, now.

It was sunset with vermillion glow outside as the only ambience. Trees shook with gusts. She feared what would come next. Her whole body shook with drain. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Hoggle, Ludo—I need you," Through clenched teeth. rattling of trees.

Sarah whimpered in a low voice and held onto herself, "No…The Labyrinth has… no power over me!"

A sudden arid wind current stripped into her bones through her layers. It sobered her brain enough to focus on her friends, her body.

Sarah felt a presence in front of her. The rumbling stopped. Was it Ludo?

She reached her hand forward, pushing her foot in a slide. Stopped. Waiting for a withered one to touch it.

Nothing brushed her hand. She stood straight again. Sarah dared not open eyes.

As she lowered her hand, the atmosphere changed once more. It felt as if she was in a wrong crosscurrent…warm air from the floor, cool air from the ceiling.

A circular chilled weight pushed into her palm.

She shrieked, threw hand up to make a run for it.

But it stuck. She jolted open eyes.

It was a crystal orb, glowing incandescent outside and swirling cream inside. A lilac edge beneath the orange pulsed in sync with her heartbeat in a swirl. Sarah was mesmerized. Frozen in place, but not unwillingly.

It felt like she carried the densest dumbbell and the most delicate porcelain. The crosscurrent seemed to hold her in place standing. She closed her lids to inhale the sublime feeling.

A light change hit her face, she sensed it beaming.

Another, unexpected, presence pushed into the crosscurrent. She felt it in her body. It pushed into the space of the orb in front of Sarah. Cut through the crosscurrent. Disrupted the light.

She was afraid to look under her scrunched lids, for fear of blinding herself.

It blocked out the radiance. She felt a chill again.

The crosscurrent halted.

The tingle of the orb faded gradually.

She shot her eyes open in anger.

Standing before her, the Goblin King held a splayed palm over the orb.

Her hand seemed magnetized in place. Only an eerie lilac glow of the orb remained.

Sarah's gaze ran up the hand and in darkness until it reached his face. Her forest irises reflected the light as she gasped, but could only muster a slight vocalization from sheer shock. Lilac ran in moving shadows onto his eyes and jawline.

Her mouth slightly ajar. The only movement she managed was a grimace that held back tears.

His resonant, raspy voice emerged.

"How dare you summon the powers of the Kingdom and Labyrinth, then deny them in the same breath."


	3. Chapter 3 - Current Dread

a/n: aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.

*I apologize for typos, vocab. CC/constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. I make every effort to avoid my curse of long-term-project plot inconsistencies **…groans.**

*Find "The Craft" scene reference(s) in the chapter, and a fantasy series reference!

*Chapter 3 is dedicated to those experiencing untidy beginnings. Tiny elements of this chapter are creative non-fiction from personal experience.

uuuuuuuu

Chapter 3: Current Dread

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"The Hunter" Clannad

,,,,,,,,...….,,,,,,,

Her eyes were wet with emotion. Dry mouth prevented an answer. An eternity seemed to move by.

She swallowed, blinked with effort, her hand tingling. Her mind and body were captured in the magnetic force of the orb beneath his hand. The whole of her arm felt numb and tender, despite the loss of power felt.

"I didn't…call-" Sarah struggled behind a tear. Swallowed. "I didn't call you." Her body shook. An unwelcome, sharp, pulse from the orb sent her tenderness into nothing. She no longer felt her arm, but only her palm and fingers received a steady beat.

"You deny my presence as well." Jareth seemed to tighten his jawline as he looked over her face. "Why do you care to waste my time?"

She winced, expecting him to act suddenly. "I don't want you here," she whispered in strain.

He readjusted his grip on the orb without moving. It shifted to his will, and Sarah felt the cool surface once more. "Is that any way to greet me, Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth?" No humor laced his tone, just passive statement.

Sarah felt as if he could see the winkles forming at ends of her eyes. She tried to steady her breaths in her nose. "K…Goblin King. Jareth. I don't. Want you, here…please leave." She felt frustration build again.

"Don't ever use my familiar name, Jareth, in the human realm. Such disrespect." He finally moved to close then open eyes. Shadowed decreased, and his features reflected a human eye shape.

The odd lights and storm lessened to a rumble. Electricity returned dimly.

"Let me go." She yanked her hand, and her whole body shifted back with the disconnect of hand. Something prevented her from falling, and she stood with regained footing.

"I choose to do nothing. I cannot touch, or make physical contact, with you in this realm. Otherwise," He moved, and Sarah almost tripped, moving toward the table. Sarah scooted aside, avoiding the edge.

"Otherwise, I'd leave you suspended from ankles in midair 'till you turned purple." He turned his wrist and swiftly tossed the orb, now uncolored, toward his other hand. "Then I'd shake your senses back to you."

Sarah watched from a safer distance, wary, It floated, flashed a lilac, and popped on his metal finger extension. She hadn't seen the odd accessory, did a double take. It was a metal claw. Pretentious.

Looking away in frustration, she realized her food was gone and so was the pot. The kitchen was spotless, undisturbed. She flipped gaze to him. "Why are you so rude to me? …get over yourself."

Sarah noticed how he locked gaze in shock, looked down, up. As if he really hadn't expected that response. Face back to passive. Jareth stepped forward. She flinched. Held her ground. He stilled.

"Oh? Speechless?" She fired. A sudden tingle reminded her mid-arm of the orb loss. Her mind was thick with panic.

"Quiet. Before I do something, that you will regret." Jareth's voice dripped danger.

"Fine. I dare you. Scare me." She sarcastically remarked. Shrugged off her fear. He moved in place. And closer without stepping. Eerie stillness met the area, minus her heartbeat.

In a blink he stood inches from her. She saw the Goblin King's face through blur of emotion. It was the same-it was nothing as she remembered. He looked odd. Nothing like her dim recollection of a magic king. Instead looked a creature shaped to mock the human form.

"You…don't exist." She quipped. Looked to his rich browns, tawny leathers and feathers.

She felt a presence along her calves. As if deep frigid water pulled them in. Tingling sensations, numbness akin to sleeping feet. It ached and tears welled again as she croaked a reply.

Her socked feet turned down feet, point first, as if tiptoe. Sarah felt utterly helpless.

But the feeling from the orb returned to her legs instead, and shot into her hips. Sarah realized she wasn't placing weight on her feet. Her big toes dragged across the floor backward. Chilled flooring met paralyzed feet. Her mind went fuzzy. She shut her eyes. She quaked, everything felt wrong.

"Sssss"… she creaked out. "Stoppppp-" Tears came and her face welled with tension. Her body moved against the pull of gravity.

"I am doing no such a thing! You are causing this!" He emphasize with a cutting anger. He moved forward after a push of foot.

"Help…it stop," She opened her eyes to try and focus but her mind turned the area into flashes of color and motion. In a second it ended and she fell forward bent at knee. Jareth in an instant lurched forward to try and catch her fall. To no result—instead she fell arms first as if his form was shadow.

Time slowed in the mere moments. Jareth widened eyes in realization, unprepared to act. Another step, rushed motion. He swiped his ringed hand left in palm-up sway, and it stopped her distance completely.

With inches from the ground her hand and knees brushed the floor. An orb slid beneath. Something snapped, as if a bulb broke. Lilac smoke clashed with tawny glitter. It generated a mist bomb.

The orb mess shattered into a smoky billowed cushion. Sarah landed with her wind knocked clean from her lungs. She jerked to her side on her arm, knee up, sable locks in every direction, coughing her air out and gasping in.

Jareth stare at the kitchen as Sarah coughed behind him. He swallowed. Closed eyes. He hadn't anticipated any of this. It seemed unreal. Unreal. To someone who had centuries to label what was reality and impossible. He did not have an answer.

Sarah rolled onto her back. Lifted a hand to rub her eyes, arm weighted by an invisible ache. "J-Goblin..King?" She strained.

Jareth wanted to leave the scene. He felt like he wasted his time. Even bothering to warn her of her rude behavior. But something felt unusual.

Jareth quietly moved to face her. She looked shaken but not entirely in pain yet. He needed to stay a little longer, to maybe question her. Or even make sure she didn't truly injure herself. His un-human senses twitched at him for that thought.

Sarah moved into a sit. Crossed her legs in stiff movements. Tried not to fall back. Looked at the tall King. Still as swarthily dressed—standing like the world owes him a favor.

Sarah internally smiled.

She retained her ability to think through the fall. Okay, good. Nearly fell into traumatic brain injury, or multiple fractures.

"I'm not trying to argue, now, Goblin King." She tried. He said nothing. Sarah didn't look to him, but her hands. Sniffed in a breath, swallowed. "I'm s…sorry. But really—thanks for that."

He looked at her face. Marred with transparency of stress. "Hm."

"Or don't…say anything. Bet'cha got nothin' to say to me, after all that. Guess I'm the real worst witch now," she rolled her eyes. An ironic smile budded, and Sarah rubbed eye-sockets. Moved to straighten her back. She felt better now.

Worst witch? Jareth was quietly relieved she was not about to pick another fight.

Especially after the strange reunion they had. He had not wanted to see her face…after those last moments in his Realm. As human years swept by, Realms and Royal priorities made bland his bitterness for her Success in the Labyrinth.

"Why are you here?" She poked. Her adrenaline still lingered from the levitation.

He turned head, loosened up. He looked a bit uncomfortable. She watched his clothes fade into a beige, then slate, mist. He wore human clothes. Slacks and a dark button up with a light semi-trench coat.

Sarah cleared her throat. Unusual, but doable for a lawyer. "…to buy fashionable clothes, maybe?"

He squinted at her. "I am here, without quarrels, remember?"

She nodded for him to answer her first question. He moved closer and a chair scooted for him to sit upon. Sarah felt a cushioned surface, and the dizzying feeling of levitation again. She shot her eyes closed. It ended in a blink. She looked down to find herself on a dining chair.

"Simply put, I have to negotiate an issue with you." Jareth moved to cros one leg over the other.

Sarah almost scoffed but remain silent. "What do you mean?"

"I have reason to believe there is a dangerous Being in your Realm."

"Not you?" She couldn't help but smirk.

He almost groaned in frustration. "I could leave. I needn't bother if you are being childish," he moved up.

"Who...nono wait please I…STOP!"Sarah leaned forward in quick, head-spinning move. She sat down, rubbed her head lightly. He turned without facial change.

She re-made eye contact with straining eyes, "I am NOT childish. First of all, I am grown and learn-ed. Don't say that."

Jareth moved to leave. She hurled herself and moved to grab anything to stop him. But fell forward again. Pulled back by something. She moved back to her feet, bent knee, in a wobble.

He turned to face her again. "You can barely stand, Sarah…"

She didn't miss the roll in his voice. Figures. "You can barely tolerate me. Civil, for a ruler. I haven't even started talking to you."

He gazed over her. Frowned. then loosened. "I abide by my rules. You wouldn't understand."

"No. No I wouldn't. I'm only human. I wouldn't do as you say." It slipped out before Sarah could realize the famed lines.

He froze. Looked truly insulted. "Well. That settles that. Good riddance. And farewell, Champion Sarah Williams."

"NO!"

His human-like figure faded. Sarah had to think fast. "I require your service Goblin King, Help me!

In instant he stood, with a slight glitter shadow, before her. Shook his head, arms akimbo. "Pitiful." His features seemed darker, pronounced.

"Cry me a river. I need you to talk. Let's talk, together. Now." She talked without thought.

"Since I am now bound to service, your requirements…within reason… are my wards." A mild growl resonated.

That goofy request wasn't supposed to work. "Cut the cryptic. I require—the whole story. I am willing to listen." She stood before him despite tentative tummy ache.

He moved an eyebrow. A whoosh and they sat once more on chairs, this time by the table.

"Proceed." Sarah folded her hands and did her best interview pose. Glitter swirled around them.

Jareth put forearms on the table. He looked, and met her eyes, now serene. Green as the ferns in the Seelie Forest. He almost forgot to speak. She blinked. Seemed affected as well, but held her own. He looked away.

"Dangerous Being?" She opened.

"A dangerous Being," he answered, "In my Realm, there were encounters some regions away from the Goblin Lands. Unprecedented."

Sarah nodded.

"Meaning? Children were wished away to the Realm of the Water Ones. That is unheard of."

"And?" She grew intent. Maybe he meant sentient fish.

"As humans named them, they are more or less, er—merpeople."

"Like humanoids?"

"Hm?" He looked bothered. "Humanoids? Never read about them. The human Realm is vast but logical."

"Er, right. No I meant," she chuckled, talking with hands, uneasy. "Humanoid means similar a human, but not human." She eyed him trying to get the point across.

"You refer to me as humanoid?"

"Yes. Strictly as a category, not a definition." She smartly finished.

He twitched an eyebrow. "Ahhhh. I understand. Humans would pursue anything remotely like them," he looked away and showed his sharp teeth in a mild giggle.

Sarah was uneasy. That came from nowhere. "Uhm, yeah whatever you say your highness. But no that's not the point."

"Oh. I see, embarrassed to admit you would try to seduce an Elf," Jareth pushed the issue.

Sarah scoffed, "yeah. actually. I would! Now continue your story!"

Jareth realized she was not having humor. Humans are so fickle. "This storrryyy is truth and urgent. So. The Water Ones are diverse, and often at odds. Like the Dwarves and Flight-Fairies."

Sarah pointed him on with open eyes.

"Some of the Water Ones are diplomatic. Some of the Goblin Kingdom's closest allies are Water Ones known as Kraken. Some are not as diplomatic. I refer to a specific group known to my Kind as Human Eyes because they take… somewhat… of a human figure."

"So 'Human Eyes' are in my Realm? How? "

Jareth shook his head in reserve. "They always were in some specific cases. The creature here? From the water. I have informants…that hint strongly of such characteristics. "

"And the creature could be anything?" Sarah prodded. Jareth looked in hesitation at her, then the table to continue.

"Part of the issue is that I am unsure whether a Human Eye is able to walk into the Human Realm. They cannot live outside water more than a human Lunar week."

"Water." Sarah wondered what others lurked in the water. Leviathan? No. "A Kelpie. Could it be a Kelpie?" Sarah had no idea. "I was terrified of the idea since reading a web comic that included the images."

That reference made him scrunch his brow in alienation. "Likely not. Kelpies are limited to certain regions. The Isles. And they are nearly obsolete—due to a mass leave into the Water Worlds after humans expelled them."

"Huh." Sarah was fascinated.

"Not the culprit, I think. It is surely not Demon, Fairy, Bird One, or Troll. Not aquatic. But entirely a different creature. I am unsure whether the Being is Male, Female, or another."

"I will have to research too."

Jareth looked into her eyes. "Be careful of what you seek. You might summon it."

Sarah felt a jolt. She had chills. The goblin King, warning her? "Like I did…with you?"

"Plausible." He quipped.

"But I can't just be a sitting duck. I need to research. Women are able these days, King."

He twitched at the emphasis. "Champion, you irritate me. Well. Then you accept risks."

"When don't I?" She blurted. "Deal with it. So. Anything else?"

"Sarah Williams, as Champion of the Labyrinth and Realm, I offer you employment: Informant Between Realms."

She sat in awe. "Informant Between Realms? A…spy? But I have a new job,"

"More or less. But loyal only to the Goblin Kingdom and its Realms. And consider it part-weekly."

Sarah breathed. "So it's treason if I mess up? That's not really ideal. And I bet there's no human wage, or protections."

"You will not 'mess up'. As you said, you are able. You are not completely alone. And that is not treason…justice in my Realm differs from humans."

Sarah contemplated. She swallowed, then had a mad craving for her minestrone, and tea. He was actually encouraging her. After the whole talking-down-to-her. It felt pleasant. But treacherous.

"I can't trust you, can I?"

Jareth gained facial shadows as she gaze at him. A sickly grin arose. "You cannot."

She jolted from her chair. Headache be damned. Her heart pounded. "What is the catch with this…position?"

"If you fail, the creature will walk freely, I imagine. Come now, Sarah Williams, you aren't frightened?" He baited,

Sarah had no idea whether she was scared, hesitant, or unwilling to truly be on her own in the non human world. Nothing to lose, except all things.

Sarah gazed at him, "I accept. Goblin King."

Jareth stilled. His smirk left. He had not expected her to accept…without a fight. He stood to meet her.

"Sarah Williams,"

She flinched, looked to him.

"Champion of the Labyrinth, Goblin Kingdoms, and its Realms. You are now employed as Informant Between Realms."

He summoned a crystal, tossed it, and she caught it in one hand without thought. The orb refracted silver and mauve light. It weighed on her wrist and palm. She felt out of place, shifted her weight again. Nodded once. Looked to him.

"First term. You must swear that you tell no one of this employment, It is critical information."

"Yes,"

"Second, you are required to contact the Goblin Kingdom. Weekly."

She nodded, orb rolling lightly.

"Third. You must abide by the Written Rules to deal with this investigation. No tricks."

Sarah scoffed at him. "Ohh. Uh ok Goblin King. No. Tricks."

"Pay attention, Informant." He continued. "You will receive the Rules in some human days' time. "

"I request no tricks, either." Sarah quipped.

Jareth rolled his eyes. "The human realm limits me, But I am formidable always."

"Stop that, please. I am glad to be employed by the Kingdom." She tried her best in odd circumstances.

"That settles it. In speed, Informant Between Realms." He reached forward, put a now gloved right hand on the orb.

"I bid you a warm evening, Sarah Williams."

His now clawed glove nearly contacted her forehead, but dissipated with the rest of him in glitter.

Sarah blinked the particles by, as the kitchen lay quiet. She was nearly dazed.

A rolling meow came from the hall.

uuuuuooouuu

The whole aura of magic and presence…moved things.

Sarah. Moved things.

And it moved her.

Of course, Sarah Williams was no mere mortal whiner.

She was, then and now, Champion and Former Runner of the Labyrinth.

A sliver of a moon hovered over the Goblin Kingdom,

Planetary years in the other Realm felt as if strange hours to him as a non-human creature.

He stepped over the threshold of the Throne Room to utter quiet.

…..,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

*I don't utilize Shakespearean named AUs (think Titania-Oberon characters) in Laby fan-works.

*I do not try to appropriate or disrespect ideas and cosmology from Inuit Legends, Northern Isles Legends, or included Oral Histories. I want to incorporate them into the tale in a respectful and creative way. I always aim to use credible resources in pre-writing research. Hang on for the reveal—thumbs up if you already guessed the Creature, just in time for Halloween! 2spooky.

…Garth Stein's fiction novel _Raven Stole the Moon_ includes a contemporary hint at a type of North American Indigenous Lore in the human world. I recommend it with reservations.


	4. Chapter 4 - Nifty Items

a/n: aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.

*Chapter 4 is dedicated to those who recently encountered someone too nosy.

(1/2) Experience that inspired this fanfic: years ago I stumbled across an herbalist shop in the nw located actually _underground_ in the pioneer district—it still exists online and the quality of the products are incredible; wish I had $$ to spoil myself more.

ooooooo

Chapter 4: Nifty Items

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"The Devil is in the Details", Chemical Brothers, 'Hanna OST'

"One Breath Away", Billy Idol

ooooooooo

Sera scratched her arm as she stood at the register as the music tinkled behind her. The new hire, Sarah, sat in the back room at lunch. A smell of meatless curry and rice emanated down the hall. Her earring brushed her shoulder as she gaze down at her hand. Her cuticle grew over her worked finger and unpainted nails. It was only natural, but a bother to maintain. It didn't matter in the scheme of things.

Sera tentatively believed that the increase in sales over the last three quarters would allow her to keep newcomers Sarah and Raven. The steady boosted income might actually allow her to retire in security, with enough cash to sip cocktails once a week. This teeny home business spiked enough to keep her storefront for a while.

And new hires meant more time to work on her products, mailing, and receiving. It stunk, though, that she couldn't afford full time benefits or any of that.

Sera wondered how Raven would handle closing the store, since tonight his shift was the training session for that. Both hires learned from the job—contracts and 'how-to' lists were minimal at most. She remembered all those decades ago working in part time replaceable jobs where the training manuals had a weight and scare tactic of their own. Not to mention the rise, in other fields, of digital corporate cash register-printer-kiosks.

One tablet and one backup computer in the office. Thank god the tobacco-stained landlord allowed more space in the wooded building for storage. She also determined both bodies were able to help with the moving and shaking of items. Reasonably, of course, since her writing hand acted up more as of late. An overpriced brace sat on the wrist. She absentmindedly stares into the abyss that was the open foyer.

Sarah told her of the earlier customer, a retail treat. The lady simply wasted her, or rather Sarah's, time, mid-shift…asking about the ingredients in a specialized post lactation women's salve.

"It was classic," Sarah chirped. "The ingredients were listed on the back of the jar in clear sarif font," the green-eyed woman breathed, "and the mom-zilla seemed content with, uh, her phone. Grabbing and inspecting everything. To the point where I asked for help."

And help it was. Little old Sera marched into a rude customer's social chat tour with her designer baby. She asked the lady to leave since store photos of product were not authorized yet. The lady left appalled in a huff, out to likely blab to the world about how rude Sera was in her quack shop.

All was fine since then. Sera was surprised Sarah handled that with such spunk—without telling the lady off or inflating it. It must have been a good choice to hire a person with people skills. The recent graduate learned with speed. Thank god.

,,,,,,,,,

Sarah blinked at her watch. Was it nearly time to skedaddle? She felt that business in the store was not truly as steady as would seem. A customer appeared only about eleven times since she began. Only seven actually bought merch.

She needn't worry yet, but she felt the location was no help to the stealthy nature of this store. She looked to the crow statue, then to the crushed velveteen pile.

A conspicuous orb sat atop the material. A glass blown "paperweight", with a sheen that looked like textured melted glass in the inner rim. Likened to an item sold in catalogues and a specialty local store in the Northwest United States, she recalled.

Sarah eyeballed that item a few times today with a sneaking suspicion it was not what it seemed. She'd never seen anyone touch it. It supposedly cost thirty dollars—as a work from a blown glass company. But it glowed. In a way that did not suggest the overhead port lights. Sarah figured it had been…placed there.

"Feeling bored, yet?" Sera's caramel voice appeared behind Sarah, who looked to her and smirked shyly.

"No, I like it here. I could always find something to do,"

"Too angelic for retail I take it." Sera nudged the emerald-eyed woman. She winked. "I'm teasing. Seriously. But the store I only hope." Sera inhaled. "That business gets better in the holiday season."

"Is it often… hm, the quiet kind?"

"Yeah mostly. I recently kept the storefront outside the farmer's market—that didn't bring in enough money to support the herbalism. It's a wonder I don't sell at a designer price."

"So employees weren't in the plan originally? Like an online catalogue maybe?"

"Uh, well," Sera nodded in mild surprise, "exactly. That's what, that's all… I did prior to thinking of a store-front." She played with her silver knot bangle. "It wasn't until I really started thinking I'd need social interaction. Delivery or packing is one thing but a store is a social location."

"I won't ask about it, I was curious." Sarah thought that maybe she'd pried. Especially with the sudden change in demeanor from the mostly hard to read boss.

"I'm really glad you asked. No… don't think…I'm offended. I think I am not so good at explaining means when it's a workplace discussion. That is all me." Sera snorted in humor with an odd look-away.

A cover, the sepia-eyed woman thought. Sera was not comfortable sharing something, Hell, Sarah Million Reasons to Worry Williams is an expert in that lifestyle. Better not ask.

"Guessing the cubicle life wasn't doing it for you?" It slipped. Bad Sarah.

Sera looked up in thought, to Sarah. "You can say that. I was sorta in a workplace like that tv show, _Dead Like Me_ , where George experiences cubicle politics firsthand."

"Haven't seen it yet, but I'll find it online now." As she nodded Sarah almost wished she had a waged cubicle job for the moneys. But she had no idea who George was or what office politics could be like.

Sera smirked and continued, "… pretty much I was trying my best to be positive in the fluorescent lights. The snappy boss was one to remember. She was unlike anyone I knew. I think she never considered anything…but her frustration..., because she was wildly dissatisfied. With everything."

"Hmm," Sarah listened. A scattered creak sounded from the hallway over the ambient music.

"I tried to keep a low profile. For years. Like how retail workers just passive-aggressively jellyfish along. But Shauna was good at singling people out. It got to a point that I tried to talk with her. One on one. She just told me that retail formed most of her experiences with life."

Sera coughed with scratchy throat. Popped an herbal lozenge. "I gained so much weight—stress pounds. My clothes didn't fit. I gave up. Only shopped for food I wanted. I even had contacted HR about my feelings and they just shrugged metaphorically. Must have thought I wanted a promotion from whining. Not being heard maybe."

The amber eyed woman stopped in thought. Sarah assumed the tale was too painful to relive. The creak sounded louder, closer. Sera seemed to hear it, and strode away to look out from the doors. Sarah watched her check in the lobby. Her footsteps went toward the bathroom. Disappeared with a door whine, returned, went further.

She had no idea what her boss was looking for, but it must be a mission. Maybe dirty tracks or a smell.

A glimmer caught her eye.

/The orb?/She looked into it, but nothing shone differently. It lay in place with deliberate stillness. /Okay now that's cuckoo./

She looked away, crouched, and turned around. To place a receipt end into the trash. She slowly rose from behind the register to sneak a peek at the orb. Hardly breathing. Nothing. Just a glow from the port lights. Urghhh.

She blinked at herself. Either someone had an agenda, or the light was truly tricking her eyes.

Thanks to the king of glitter, as she now dubbed him, anything in her realm is fair game to mess with. As far as she was concerned a goblin could, maybe would, drop furniture on her from the heavens while she waited at the bus stop. Better yet, domestic accident in the kitchen or laundry room. Maybe Junebug is a lackey and agreed to send Sarah to her early grave too.

Sarah figured a reason that the Goblins and…he…visited to torment her in revenge from her teenage years. Not like she knew why, but thanks to his impromptu visit she was a little less leery of his immediate shadow. Asking for her help, when he could just wish her into the Bog?

She shuddered re-living the smell. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt. Even when she accidentally discovered a decomposing raccoon carcass along a road on the way back to campus near a bus stop—the Bog stench never truly leaves a person's psyche.

Now for the so called responsibilities of her job as Informant. The encounter seemed to change her perception of days. It was as if since the visit from the king her nights were dreamless and unrested. She hadn't remembered a dream of hers in a while. She figured it was the existential weight of things that impacted her brain. Remembering dreams took energy.

Speaking of forgotten things—where did the boss go?

Sarah walked briskly around the knickknacks and peered left, right, into the foyer. Her heart raced and her breathing changed. Something felt wrong. The place was silent, no footsteps. "Sera, are you still looking'," she swallowed her dread, "for the sound? It's gone-"

Rapid heartbeat. Dry throat. Anxiety beginnings. Did Sera leave for food? She sure gave no warning.

Sarah turned back into the shop and breathed. The port lights blurred in her rushed vision. She looked to the orb. It sat as any knickknack would. The crow statue that watched over the antiqued tawny shelf also seemed inanimate. She moved back behind the register and nervously leaned into it, staring at the digital wall clock down the short hall. An oddly modern aspect of the shop. She admired how Sera placed fake English ivy and an empty metal frame to offset its technology. It sat between framed images.

Her sepia eyes closed and she reprimanded herself…for assuming everything had a conscience. Yet, whatever the king needs to find was spooky enough to require her help. As if it meant certainty to an answer.

"I'm a sitting duck now," Sarah blurted. She was certain of her present inability to face pain or true danger.

"The customers might get you,"

Sarah's body pivoted in sheer shock, almost tipping her into the register booth. She locked eyes with an elderly man outside the shop. He peeked in, with a harmless smirk beneath his greyed mustache. He had a potbelly and stood under five-five.

Sarah tried to smile and held her cheek in mild embarrassment. "Yeah, retail, amirite?"

He nodded, with an odd scrunch in mouth, behind rectangle glasses. "Used to before my teaching career. Almost missed the entitled buyer. Then moved to the entitled student."

Sarah hadn't expected that turn. "You aren't…gonna look around?"

"Nah, later. I wanted the letter and print shop. But the owner's been sick for the last month. It's closed. Scares me." He thumbed toward the longer end of the foyer. Sarah looked away, back to him and the still doorway. Unable to respond. Nodded.

"Your name?" He frowned and looked to her.

"Sarah."

"Well, tell other Sera, the owner, I said hi and I love what she did with the place. I'm Josh from teaching." He nodded, made a tiny salute, and clopped away in his work safe hard shoes. Sarah scrunched part of her mouth. Her foot ached from leaning on it. And she needed to use the bathroom. Her trusty bladder strained in response.

Just as she worked up courage to hold it in, footsteps signaled another. Sarah inhaled. Any more bladder stoppage and a UTI called her name.

Sera strolled in with a perturbed face. Sarah opened her mouth, but Sera held up her finger in wait. She exhaled in frustration. "Sarah dear, you're not gonna believe this."

/I'm a damn believer alright./

"I fainted outside." She looked aside and wiped sweat from her brow as she made her way to the register. "I awoke sitting on the bench. I don't think I had a stroke…" she shook her head then rubbed her partial buzzed style. "I need to go home. But the problem is Raven'll be here in a second."

"Would we still close the store?" Sarah opened.

"Uhm…" Sera scrunched her eyes and opened them to look into sepia. "Well I suppose. The show must go on. Raven needs to close too."

Sarah nodded. Swallowed. As if on cue Raven strode into the store, leathery jacket and wide, yet cautious, lumbering stature. He'd mentioned in their first days working that he loved all things gothic and occult. And she knew anime was in his repertoire…he held a lengthy conversation about his filmography after she complimented him on an _Evangelion_ messenger bag.

His angel bites glittered in the port lights. "Hello everyone, and spirits," he remarked to the women and…whoever…as he lifted his earbuds out.

Sera flinched. Sarah pretended not to se. She's perturbed for sure, saw something.

"Well, I trust both you will handle closing just fine. Raven, I don't feel well so I will go home."

She made ready, disappeared, returned with keys, coat, and bag and such. Placed another lanyard on the counter. "Just do what you normally do. Instructions are laminated in the other room if need be," she looked to Raven. "You'll learn, it's easy lemon squeezy. Bye now, have a safe night!" She walked her way out, down the foyer and up elevator.

"…Is she okay? God I hope she's not really sick. I've got a crap immune system."

Sarah shrugged, "she just got spooked…a customer got under her nerves, maybe, on my lunch hour." Sarah felt as confused as she looked, framing the cover-up. Raven looked convinced and went to place his things in the back.

Sarah thought about her few hours. Closing was 9 pm, and dad earlier that day had offered to pick her up nearby.

ooooooooo

Her watch read 7:34pm. The PTA meeting was quick and painless.

Standing in the laundry room, the blonde woman stood with purse over arm and briefly looked at the impressive upkeep. Karen nodded to herself. The laundry had been washed and placed in assorted baskets of each member.

Karen learned day by day that the former teen caught up in a fairy story was no longer a foreigner. Instead she had a sense of self made by…something… in her leave.

Karen strode from the room and felt a breeze. "Sarah, I'm home!" She projected. "Your dad and Toby are out finding a new bed for the cat-"

Hm. The back door was open…behind the mesh door the moisture nearly collected on the glass. It was frigid in autumn and too dangerous to keep doors open. It shut with some effort and a bang, click of the lock. It was the case that Sarah at least tried her best for her homemaking abilities, Maybe Sarah had cleaned a floor and vented the fumes.

With a bit of walking, things seemed cleaner than she left it. Karen's eyes flitted to the kitchen. Pristine. Graciela was not due to visit soon. Considering the crisply dressed housekeeper, Graciela, used to come bi-monthly to clean the house. In the last few months it seemed less necessary to tidy up because even Toby attempted to help.

She'd never guessed that Sarah would mature and change enough in time after her return to civilian life. She hardly if ever wore shoes in the house, kept them in the entry basket in the mudroom. Karen almost scoffed. It was like she was intentionally showing off. Getting Toby to help clean—maybe she bribed him.

Her face lifted in smirk and slid her shoes from her feet, picking them up to also drop them in the mudroom bin. Stretching her toes, it had been too long since a mani-pedi. But it didn't bother her. Unlike the usual jump from an overgrown cuticle. It was all about the salt soaks and working skin creams. Sarah never trifled with bought manicures except when Karen offered the dark brunette a trip to the parlor. Once at high school graduation, once before the Bachelor's ceremony. And kept her nails natural and short.

Karen's own fingers had seen decades of artificial placements and paints. It pained her that each trip cost anywhere from $18 to $45. Only in pregnancy had Karen ended the manicures and she stopped regular appointments during nursing and swaddling. After Toby got into his kindergarten years she visited more. It seemed that having a school child dismissed the need to stare at nails.

As a secretary at a community college her days were spent sitting and doodling with endless asks, calls, typing. Some mothers had outrageous long claws with glitter and the like. . Karen felt it unnecessary with a young child or even with any child. Imagine that being ripped off or scraping the child.

Some fathers and older brothers, when visiting, actually had visibly manicured nails despite minimalist visions And. so. many. French. tips. Deep down in her mind of minds the French tip was a shade of the adult film industry, despite how many times she'd received the style.

After her second marriage Karen learned that life had a sense of some consistency. Her first ring offered a sense of security in the beginning. But as the fairy story goes, it was a ruse.

She 'hmmphed' in response to thoughts. Karen drove the past thoughts to a hum in her brain, She'd revisited the often claw habit when she and Robert experienced marital difficulties during Sarah's, erm, phases in high school and leave for college. It was back and forth to therapists, groups, and sessions and novels of help, even with young Toby a few times. Sarah was lucky…she hadn't seen the worst of it.

She went to ace the water kettle to boil. She guessed Robert would drink a small mug of peppermint tea before bedtime. She needed some hydration after the caffeine. Some calming spearmint nettle tea sounded right. Even Sarah's frequent tea habit rubbed off on everyone. Robert drank tea—and seemed to hydrate more than she'd seen in years of marriage.

Karen moved to walk upstairs and place her purse in her room. The door handle creaked in a push and she placed her purse on the floor next to the boudoir. Closed the door once more. Went back down in slow descent.

\Toby asked for tea while Sarah was off finishing her degree…even if he hated the taste. But he still tried to drink it with added ice, at a breakfast diner, with cream and sugar aplenty. Chasing it with extra toast. It shocked Karen while she sipped her lemon water.

Sarah's periodical visits saw changes in the sable haired woman. Karen watched her step-child grown into a happier, if not, more focused person. The former step-child was…her own person. And after months of counseling Karen and Robert decided not to refer to Sarah or Karen as 'step' anything. They had a formal sit down with, then twenty, Sarah who took it like a champ even with her nervous apprehension. Robert was worried Sarah would put up word barriers like he, and Karen, had. Toby only knew wither parent by parental names—not step names.

\Karen's mind couldn't help but flow back into the danker regions of her first marriage. Living in the high wealth of the East coast in a college town, right out of college, gave her the head-start to sweep away out of casual dating life after getting a "Mrs" Degree. She went to get a journalism degree but flinched at the cost freshman year—instead settled for a straightforward communications sciences certification. She almost missed her sassy self before the fiancée.

Marshall was a WASPs dream… if she ever knew one. A caricature. He enchanted her right from the start senior year of college. Ever feigning interest in her appearance, and ever flashing his family's money. His rose-pale complexion, built and taller frame, slicked dirty blond hair and light chocolate eyes. Liked to play the power roles, pretending gender 'chivalry' existed. Karen wanted it, deep down… the glamor of being less responsible for her future. Back in her day dreaming of a straightforward home life occupied her thoughts. Lucky strike: Marshall's family owned a string of men's boutiques based in the region. And he had an international business degree to match it.\

She moved to prepare her tea.

\And her parents. They couldn't have cared less about her degree. They were more or less neutral about her college life except for her nearly full scholarship from a department. Past the dating and party scenes, of course, she never truly shared their passive need to be homebodies and gender rigid role-takers. In fact she fancied herself some nice cars and really liked baseball and rock and roll, much to her father's confusion. Twice married and she never fulfilled the dream of learning to play synthesizer or electric guitar.

In the past Karen resented Sarah's music habit of rock, alternative, opera, and other things in teen years. Yet realized in time Sarah was not a stranger as much as she chased a dream in a different direction from Karen. Sarah might have become a groupie if fooled into it. Karen, on the other hand, knew she'd become one if to have someone else make the decisions, and to travel.\

\After her decision not to have a first baby with Marshall, a secretive recovery weighed on her emotions until she cracked and told her mother-in-law. Who promptly made it a moral mission to speak of it to Karen's own family, their cousin, and Marshall. Such maturity. A strenuous fourteen months later and divorce left her with some things thanks to prenuptials, but less life, emotionally. Karen never lived it down—held that against them still.

More irreparable pain later and it was done-for. In the following years she was a silent career woman. Until meeting Robert, who was the opposite of Marshall. Even down to circumstances he was…older… and more socially reserved.

She secretly hoped Sarah never lived through that. Even in changing times, her future was not up to others. Part of Karen wanted to protect Sarah from the same decision of marriage based on puppy love and money. Part of her also needed Sarah to move on with her life and leave their odd little family where they stay, and not have to remain in earshot of their hardships. She felt Sarah was always a bit on the removed side—thanks to Linda's motherly decisions.

She removed the tea bag and stirred in some sucralose. Sipped the searing beverage. It'll wait.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

(2/2) obvious tv show reference is obvious. *Timelines in this fic will jump and are not always accurate. Name consistency poses a challenge for me in fics. And Karen is humanized in this work, imagine that. Linda will show up eventually, as will the monster/creature. Don't worry, more spooky GK will saunter by, because y'all crazies want him badddd [eyebrow raises].

*Being in a novelty shop I will be working even more blackout hours and holidays this year. Joy to the part time world [wink]. I try my best, this is all me writing. More of _BFA_ will churn out!


	5. Chapter 5 - Chilly Water

Chapter Five: Chilly Water

…..,,,,...

This chapter, after awfully long last, is dedicated to anyone who was put on the spot by an authority figure.

[Clan of Xymox "Medusa"]

…..,,,,...

Ice shelves move as the glacial melt progresses. In human hours the waters warmed on surface. The ascent welcomes a spindly figure from the depths. Breaking to the surface, air changed its appearance, and into the blinding light it rose and broke onto the ice shelf with a sharp slap. Bones rattled. Muscles contorted and limbs switched places, nerves creating a jolt.

The figure made an unearthly sound. Its greenish hairlike material changed, tightened, to a human pattern, contorting with its facial and physical aspects. It crawled and scraped on flat stomach, nails dulling into a human material. It scraped in the burning light... until, after eternity, land and dirt met the underside of its nails. The sun's rays scorched its otherworldly pale complexion. Its transformation was complete. It scraped forward and lay defeated, and slipped into darkness.

….

"In the Underground, time moves at a pace unexplained by humans,"

The Apothecary's eyes moved across the documents. The Goblin King rolled his eyes, for a chicken squawked during the mention of 'earth'. "I believe, your Highness, that a human appointment would bring disfavor. Disfavor From the Water Realms."

"And what does that entail? I do not ask for political advice from you often," he moved to swallow the concoction. Bitter, gritty. He cringed. Despite its cruel texture, he allowed it since she created it specifically to soothe his body from the jolting trip to the Human realm.

"With all due respect, I am no idiot." Her inhuman eyes flicked in frustration over his face. "I have no reason to believe a human could mediate better than, well, any other creature. Most have a bitter memory of the Humans in their creature cruelty. If she was caught in the act of correspondence..."

"By who?" He sharply jolted to make eye contact after swallowing.

"I fear by any creature, really. But especially by an Elf of neighboring lands. And once the Elves catch the information, soon could the Water Realm."

"I am well aware of political ties and gossip,"

"Your Highness, I implore you to reconsider the Human, the Champion. She is hardly capable-"

"Sar-" Jareth caught himself. "Sarah Williams, the Champion, is capable of doing her work when provoked. I have my ways of convincing her to do right..." He smirked.

"She had better not be a conquest. I will advise you in this interest. It is wrong."

That stopped his words. He glared at her and turned away. "Never insult me with...that..." Apothecary Ha'ta was not to meddle with his thoughts. The Seelie of the Mountain-Inlet knew better.

"You have no reason to pursue a Human." She pushed the issue.

"I have pursued many stranger, powerful, ones! Don't make me laugh with your morbid interest in my desires..." he tried to show her up by sheer size.

Ha'ta stood her ground and shook her head. "You will face my resignation the moment I catch wind of Sarah as a new consort," she moved to open the door. "I have work to attend to, I suggest you do the same."

He strode away and the door slammed shut behind hum. Across the hall, noises and more chicken racket arose. Back to the fray.

/Jareth understood her dilemma, despite her hostility. The Mountain-Inlet Seelie existed in a realm that served as a partially landlocked place, where tens of creatures interacted an traded daily. It was a cornerpoint of political and social interaction in the Underground. The Goblin Kingdom's best ally. As a respected elder and cultural figure, her reputation truly relied on the projects she undertook. An she never failed to treat him like a juvenile.

He refused to barter creatures as they did in her, and others' Realms. He may make deals and tricks and contracts with humans...yet they were in reason and consent. He knew Ha'ta would demand a hefty sum if he was to bring Sarah into the Realm uninvited. Arboreal Grey Moss was a commodity that was not slim in price- in her realm, the Moss was sold as humans sold gemstones. It was a miracle product that could cloak vision and change perception of space if ground into an airborne powder.

It worked waves on humans running the Labyrinth. And on Sarah... as the lumbering bulk of a creature Ludo fell into an Oubliette./

Jareth swallowed involuntarily as his inhuman face twitched with thought. His owlish eyes darted to and fro, taking in the dark of the evening. Off to tend the farm living in his throne room.

…,,,,...

'The changeable features are essential to its success as hunters. They take no heed to credit-based finance, but rather, use Bartering Systems as a practice.'

Sarah groaned as she lay and stretched into the chair. Continued reading under strained eyes.

'Ice Swimmers. In some Human lore known as Child Takers. Not to be confused with Mer-Beings. A similar form to Sidhe, Seelie, and Humans, is often taken in defence. The power is diminished during this form as does with Fae in the Human Realm. Capable of human contact due to Contact-Initiated Magic; its similar natural environment in the Underground requires it to swim in Human Northern Seas if in the Realm. Sustained by a primarily carnivorous diet, omnivorous is necessary. Known to devour human flesh if provoked. Cannot live a human week out of its simulated environment. Considered to be a danger to Humans, Faun-Beings, and Worm Types. Diplomacy is essential.'

Sarah stopped. The incandescent light formed a shadow on the rendering in ink. She jumped in her seat; its inhuman face bore beady eyes, seal-like musculature, and an eerie spinal shape. Another rendering to the right made her breathe lightly in tension. It seemed to glare into her skull with its humanoid face. In its hand was a swaddled child. Held aloft by a roll of fabric.

Sarah looked to her clock. 10:34pm. Thank god her shift began at One in the afternoon.

This research got under her skin. It had been a long time since she read a horror novel. The endless leather-bound pages would lull her into a sleep, if not for that juicy tidbit. And she was genuinely affected by it. Was this...Child Taker… really a threat?

/She lived nowhere near the North icy waters. Why did Jareth want her help with a being from a different region? She had better not be asked to travel there for mere scouting./

She shivered and gulped cool water from the metal flip-top bottle. By now Karen, dad, and Toby slept in their respective rooms. And Sarah was kept awake by her part-time job of reading translated Fae texts.

A skittering drove her into the back of her chair. Her heart stopped. She looked to the door. Shut.

"G-goblin, is that you?" No answer.

/Where was Sir Didymus' courage when she needed it?/

Sarah nearly held her breath, and inhaled in spurts. She tried to regularize her breathing. A bash into her door sent her into a frightened gasp, and shut her eyes.

A curious meow followed. Scratching. Silence. She opened her eyes to groan in anger.

/That damn cat./

0000oooo0000

May 2019.

~Hello my faithful Readers! Thanks for sticking with my unreliable updates! I hope this tale is palatable, considering how damn long it takes me to write and upload a chapter from start to finish. I honestly began this chapter in...well...February. I encountered some morrreeee time consuming tech, money, and life things that I am currently still dealing with in this quarter.

~All blubbering aside, I hope y'all are well and excited to see where this bonkers tale goes! I spent a fraction of my free time taking some chills to myself. As in reading much-neglected Fan Fics I wasn't able to read for a while. Karen IS indeed Irene as known in the Laby canon. However I made a typo that stayed. My headcanon is that Karen is her middle name that she stuck with. I know, crappy, but manageable. And I HAD to create a bullet-point storyboard for this one. In case you're wondering, the Unresolved Sexual Tension will indeed appear soon in this fic. /winkwink/ Like I said, slow burn but a burn after all. Do ya like the amateur metaphysics of the Human and Underground? I try. Find the _Vampire Hunter D_ film reference (think incense).

Pleaseeeee Review and read and do whatever your little hearts do. Love ya! & check out my shameless promotions of things I like:

\- Novels _Receiver of Many_ and _Destroyer of Light_ by Rachel Alexander. I cannot praise them enough!

\- T _he Measure of a Man_ and _Whisper of the Wisps_ here on FFN. Wowza.


	6. Chapter 6 - Awake Away

Chapter 6 - Awake Away

-...-

Sugar Ray "Into Yesterday"

[warning for language]

===...===

Toby wrenched open his mouth and crammed in the last bite of the crisped bread, savoring the cheese flavor and ketchup. The last bite of his joy before dinner.

He opened the fridge and surveyed, as Karen whisked the gravy packet into a pot. "Toby, I am not a diner. I try hard to make food for everyone. Please, at least, try to eat dinner with us."

He closed the door begrudgingly moped his way back to the dining room table, headphones drowning out the sound of the vent. /Yeah, fine. But like dad says, I know what I like./

Karen's frequent attempts to create healthier options were thwarted by Toby's need for his idea of palatable food.

/Sarah, while visiting from university, had jokingly told him to starve or make his own. 'Or,' she added, 'have a job like me and buy your own ingredients.'/

And the clever kid took it upon himself to read through online recipes, watch hours of footage, and remake foods he liked.

Toby stayed with his taste for the Americana. Such creations as black olive-cheddar-taco sauce nachos; a cinnamon toaster pastry over fudge-overload ice cream, or a potato chip lined hotdog with barbecue sauce. Inevitably Sarah's tofu cubes snuck onto a veggie crouton plate...but no match for his pesto ranch dressing. Courtesy of his mother's tiny food processor. And Toby ate it, too. There were few strange combos he shied away from.

It was a miracle that he figured out his own way to create food. Like. Magic./

Sarah plonked her way down the stairs. And knew to look for a side dish. Karen walked to the sink. "Sarah, It's gonna be a chicken and gravy dinner. I got you, um, the tofu you wanted..."

Sarah's gaze moved to the table where the microwaved block of soy sat. Sarah almost sighed, but thanked Karen. She made a mental note to take a few bites and then save for later pan-fry. She sat near Toby, who was lost in his music. Junebug jumped onto the trash-tin lid and sniffed the air with poultry envy.

She looked to the rather comforting table arrangement. At least Karen put her best foot forward. And took time out of her life to do this. If anything, Karen and Robert tried their damndest to integrate a healthier routine for everyone's sake. It was progress... though uneven.

/The notably worst example of a diet dish was the dreaded "healthy casserole"; brought by an ex-wife of a brother on Robert's side, a few years after Sarah's Run. A baked abomination of mixed vegetable medley featuring lima beans, pasteurized-process cheese, steak spices, with a breadcrumb and olive ringlet topping. An embryonic attempt at a vegetarian and low sugar option.

Both Toby and Sarah... swallowed a forkful. Even Karen and Robert took no-thanks bites. Since that day, it was a threat for anyone to stop complaining about food.

"It's about a dollar a serving to make healthy casserole, with leftovers," Karen snarked one day, after Robert asked yet again for deep-dish pizza from a themed midwestern joint. "And you know how sad it is to waste food," she said with a signature upward-chin tilted smirk. Sarah got such a response as much as Robert or Toby. The others in the family never took offense. But all knew a Karen Sanction right quick./

After dinner the group split. Robert insisted that he help Karen clean up the dishes. Sarah figured it was her dad's way of generating more intimacy without making it clear. Not that she ever wanted to come to that conclusion; one plus one is two and both parents are...gone when the dishes are through. Sarah listened to the usual clatter-clink-footsteps-whispers routine while safely away and seated on the couch.

Sarah didn't like the idea of intimacy as a goal. Well, in her infinite wisdom, intimacy was foreign ground. Close friendships and fleeting acquaintances showed her that it was often situational. If she were more driven to catch it, she might have had more than select trysts. But being desperate for that? That might well lead to being heartbroken.

She spent too much of her adolescent time moping over her birth-mom's split from her dad. And blamed everyone and herself. But in that time, no one was as guilty as Karen of that interference. And it tore teen Sarah to shreds. The Run was the turning point for Sarah to actually admit defeat. But only in her own cruel judgments.

As Sarah mulled over the endless questions of her sexuality, a strange tingling sensation overtook her hands. They appeared normal despite the tugging feeling and gentle tremors. She closed her eyes and breathed as if to meditate. A sharp shallow breath. Then no tingling.

But a rolling sound. Sarah knew her peaceful mulling was up. Looking for an orb, or goblin, Sarah scanned the dim room and floors. "...just show yourself," she chirped in whisper. Rolling stopped. Then began. A dull thud startled her, and lo, the orb was beside her leg on the couch. Her forearms tugged in a throb again.

The orb sat still, and was transparent. She, for a moment, paused in wait of any glitter bombs. Nothing. She tapped it with her middle finger. Nothing. "Spying isn't right. Especially in my parent's house,"

No response. She had a thought.

"Show me the Child Taker."

Nothing.

/Maybe ask questions./ "Where is the Creature?"

She tapped it, and gasped as it became a grey opaque. Her arms ached again. Compelled to touch it, she grasped the item in her left hand. The feeling shot up her arm and into chest pain. Her feet went numb and she closed her eyes in shock. Her body lay still in the seat.

The nameless mist carried her figure in a current. She wrenched open her eyes, as her vision floated over a figure laying still on the shore. A sea faced it, and its unclothed body seemed to radiate unease in Sarah's mind. Spindly and unearthly pale. Its head lay to the side. She felt her vision change, and saw that its eyes were open, blinking with the membrane. Its mouth slid agape, pointed teeth a sickly yellow. Sarah stifled a noise. But she could not make a sound.

She was slammed back into reality, lurched over and coughing in thrums. The orb banged onto the ground and rolled out of sight. She nearly fell forward, but threw herself sideways on the couch.

"Sarah?"

The cough spurts threw her breathing off. Her heart shook.

"-Sarah!" Toby's panicked voice sounded across the room. Footsteps scampered closer. Her tearing eyes found Toby holding his tablet and his headset off.

"Uhm...you, uh. Choking." His voice was shaken as well. "You were sleeping, then choking."

"Yeah," she wiped her eyes. "Really bad dream. I was...swimming...then couldn't."

"You're-okay, right?" Toby was unable to move. Just clutch his item.

"I will be okay. It's a dream." She smiled with effort.

Toby was not convinced. "A monster also? In your dream?"

Sarah's eyes widened. And nodded.

He hesitantly slumped into the couch. His tablet blinked a color. He pressed the button to pause it.

"The scary monster...tries to get me too, when I sleep. I swim away but the monster swims faster, uh, grabs my hand. I wake up."

"Toby?" Sarah couldn't form words. "But...how long have you... had the dream?"

"Few. Days prob'ly."

She looked at the empty room. The lies she told would not hold for long.

It matched the time frame of her learning about the Child Taker. The texts she read must have spread outward to others in the vicinity. A mild fury overcame her. Only the Goblin King would intentionally send her a...contagious... item.

"Toby," She took his shoulder in a side-hug. Then looked blindly for sign, the orb, anything. "Nothing. Will hurt you. I promise."

"Promise?"

She looked to him. His eyes held doubt. Understandably. Sarah nodded.

….-...-...-...

"Sera Merlin," the woman replied to the flower shop worker. The latina lady nodded, her blonde-streaked hair sealed in a worker bun.

"...so like the wizard? Oooh. I wish my name was unique. But no."

Sera smiled and looked down. "Honestly I changed my name as an adult. I was Basic Name before." The woman adjusted the green tinged roses in her small bouquet. She hated the smell of roses, but learned to deal with it.

"Hm. I wonder what happens when people marry and get, like, ugly last names though. I'd kill to be Merlin." The worker's canary nails contrasted with her glitter ring-finger under the port light, as she brushed a loose flower leaf into the trash.

"I chose it over Sera Avalon,"

"...that's it, Avalon is my favorite. Thanks, buh-bye." She waved as Sera left the shop with the tinkle of the door bell.

Sera felt uplifted from the interaction. The umbrella flew open with the button as she strolled toward the parking lot. The worker seemed interested in her name, but not in a 'why isn't it s-a-r-a-h' way.

It picked her mood up on this glum rainy day; her knee acted up this week and it didn't help that her pain meds caused her a stomach ache now. That was the price of playing soccer for community college all those years ago. One twist and that knee ripped itself into a chronic issue.

"I wish." What did she wish for, again? A new knee? "I wish someone could...just...take the pain away." Sera muttered to no one in the rain. "...better yet," she mumbled, "take me away, too. Fuck reality."

She reached her car. A resonant noise hummed behind her. A scuttling splashing noise sounded behind her. Lights flashed. She whipped around with the flowers, and saw no one. Nothing was out here except the cars on the speedway a block ahead.

/It's a squirrel, stupid,/ She reminded herself. Then Sera unlocked her car.

A rolling sound met her left periphery.

She whirled to see only amber lights and cement. One light flickered and went out, leaving a desolate lot and car noises. "Shit. I'm going batty too." She slammed herself into the car, locked the doors, then threw the glove bin open to find acetaminophen. She popped one to take the spear off. In a moment her car hummed away.

"Wish for it...I will come," A voice croaked in an unheard tongue. The dark figure emerged in the exhaust fumes and glare of tail lights. A sickly pale complexion glowed in the amber lamps. The membrane closed over its eyes as the human shape framed ebony irises. Its waifish shape sunk beneath the dark colors and masculine fashion.

Its body grew sturdier in every whisper of pain and loss. Its human form stood in the flesh, supported by the misery of the strip and people who occupied it.

But the owl Goblin King was not in the parking lot that night. He sat perched facing the sliding glass door of the Williams house, hopping along a branch to gaze at the waning moon. A preening, then lift to join the sky and his Realm.

He felt the presence of magic in the human Realm. It stung with the salt of the ocean in his nostrils. Unbidden. He had to consult Ha'ta. Another magic, powerful, creature was in the radius of this area.

…...

+Thanks, dear Readers, for your patience. My life has not allowed me to play in art much, since I am caught up in getting bucket-list things [if you call them that] off my "young-life" plans. Good for me, but I am trying my damndest to update this dear tale.

On the flippity-flop...Steven Dietz & John Langs' _Dracula_ absolutely threw me into the joy of live theatre: a determined Mina Harker, outstanding production value, and a powerful cast left me breathless. What a production! ...And utilizing a sample of Gerard McMann's "Cry Little Sister"? **genius**.


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